The Enigma in the Excavation
by HisNameIsPeter
Summary: The Jeffersonian team investigates a serial murderer who has been sending threats in the form of human remains. The team faces struggles as The Excavators tricks get out of hand and cause them to wonder; what is the secret behind the killers evil scheme and how long until one of them ends up on the autopsy table?
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! HisNameIsPeter here. The fact that you are even reading this thrills me. This is my first story on fanfiction, so PLEASE review! I want to know that someone is reading. Even if you hate it (which I hope is not the case). I am so excited to start writing. Here is my former disclaimer: I do not own Bones. The show, at least. I do own all 206 in my body. I also do not own Star Wars (which I'm a huge fan of and will probably reference a lot). An important note; I have only seen up to the end of Season 8 in Bones, so I deeply apologize if some events in my story are inaccurate. Please do not mention any spoilers in your reviews. This story takes place at the beginning of Season 7, after Kristine is born but before Daisy and Sweets break up. Well, enough of my jibber jabber, I guess you probably want to start reading. I hope you enjoy!**

Camille Saroyan yawned. It was about 1:30, and the Jeffersonian was dark and silent. Something about this set of remains made Cam uneasy, and she couldn't take her mind off of it. The body had been buried in a construction site about two miles outside of D.C. The corpse was female, judging by the pelvis, and teeth and jaw suggested mid to late 20s. The features, the face, and the fractures; they were all so familiar and Cam couldn't put a finger on why. This just frustrated and exhausted her more. Her head throbbed and every time she blinked, her eyes felt heavier and heavier. She really should go home, but the remains seemed to call to her. She couldn't rest until she had solved the case of this poor woman's murderer. Cam inspected the pile of flesh and bones once more. What was she missing? She wandered over to the bookshelf on the right side of her office. The shelf held anthropology, etymology, biology, and several pathology textbooks as well as all of Dr. Brennan's novels. Cam smiled as her fingers slid over her coroner's logbook. Her young face's wide brown eyes stared back. Cam pulled it off the shelf and skimmed through, looking for anything useful to help her with the current homicide. She read over the David Deschanel case, the Michaela Thyne case, the Elsa Patent case, and even the Tamara Daley case. Hold on. Cam flipped back to the Elsa Patent page and closely examined the photos and notes she had written. The astonished pathologist set the book next to the autopsy table where a lifeless Ellen Patriot lay. She glanced at the body then the book. Then the body again. It couldn't be possible. Not only did the corpses resemble eachother, they were identical. This body that had been stolen years ago when she was a coroner was now laying on her autopsy table. Cam slid into her seat and began to madly type at her computer. She punched Booth's number into her phone and impatiently tapped her foot. The phone stopped on the first ring. Exasperated, she tried again. _Number blocked_ her phone flashed in red italics.

"I don't think so."

The low voice was gruff and unfamiliar. Cam turned to face the door was but her vision blurred as her microscope came rushing toward her. Pain seared through her head and she tried to grasp the table, but soon, the blackness took over.

...

Angela Montenegro woke to the sounds of sobbing coming from Michael Vincent's room. She collapsed back into her pillows and glanced over at the empty spot where her dear husband should be. She sighed and kicked off the covers. Angela padded out of the bedroom in her polka-dotted slippers and made her way down the hall. From inside her son's room, she heard whispering beneath the little boy's wails.

"Shhh! Let's not wake mommy! It's okay. Mommy's sleeping. Shhh."

Angela turned the knob and pushed the door open softly. Jack Hodgins looked up at her, his crazy blonde curls sticking out in every which way.

"Shoot. I'm sorry Angie."

"It's okay." She smiled. "How is he?"

"Fine. I think he's hungry."

Angela frowned, seeing as they had only just fed the boy the previous night.

"Seeing as we're both awake, we might as well head downstairs."

The tired couple tromped down the stairs, bouncing the bawling baby boy between them all the way. On about the third step up, the doorbell rang. The two glanced at eachother suspiciously, seeing as it _was_ 1:30 in the morning. Angela nodded at Hodgins, who cautiously approached the door, while she took their impatient baby to the kitchen.

The etymologist thrust open the door and peered into the dark streets. No cars, bikes, or people could be seen. Hodgins turned to look around the corner when he tripped over a large box on the porch. Two boxes, in fact. They were nearly identical, both bulky with a cubical shape. He scooped them both up and brought them inside the house. One box read_ To Doctor Jack Hodgins_ and the other was addressed _To Miss Angela Montenegro_. Hodgins frowned to see that there was no postage stamp or delivery address. He dumped the boxes on the counter, receiving a questioning look from his wife as she pulled the box over to where she and Michael Vincent sat.

Jack broke open the top. Inside was a bundle of tissue paper and a yellow sheet of paper with the cursive words "The Excavator" written on it. He cautiously lifted the tissue paper and took a horrified step back from the mysterious box.

"Jack, what's wrong?" Angela stared at her mate, concerned.

"Ang." Hodgins whispered, not moving his eyes from the package. "Somebody sent me a human jaw."

"Oh my god." Angela's eyes widened.

The artist's face turned pale as she turned to face her box. Biting her lip, she took a deep breath and carefully unwrapped the paper. Hodgins held her as she looked into the box. The cold, blank eyes of a skull stared back.

Angela screamed.

...

Zacharias Addy flipped the page of his calculus book, revealing the back cover. It was late fall and the leaves of the tree outside his window had turned orange and brown, due to leftover nutrients and waste that presented themselves once the chlorophyll had been released. A soft chill swept through the air, but Zach couldn't be sure that it was from the weather.

Today was Zach's "therapy" with Sweets. It was also delivery day; every Wednesday was. Packages for patients were delivered at 2:00 in the morning while everyone was asleep, but Zach always got up at 1:30 so he could talk to the delivery man, Elliot Washington.

Zach set the calculus book on a stack beside his bed along with four other books he'd skimmed through that morning. His room was tidy. It was small, and mostly bare except for his bed that stuck out from the back wall. He had made himself a little nook in the corner below the window with a chair and small table. His bookshelf sat next to a small desk where a lamp provided the only unnatural light in the room. He had drawn numbers, figures, designs, and inventions across the left wall. It was what he did when he got bored, which oddly fascinated Sweets.

Zach grabbed the next book with a sigh. It was Dr. Brenna's latest novel. He surprised himself when he felt a jab of pain strike his heart. He was often too rational to feel hurt. But despite common belief, in all his glory, Zach Addy had a heart. Obviously, he couldn't circulate blood or provide energy for his organs without one. But for several disturbing moments, he felt love. Dr. Brennan would say it was simply a reaction of chemicals in his brain. Which, of course, it was. But he felt his nerve cells vibrate whenever he read this specific book.

Zach's thoughts were distracted when a soft thumping was heard from the door. Elliot Washington poked his head though the door, as he always did, to see if Zach was awake, which he always was. The short man was rather stout, with a curly mop of black hair on his head. He had a small, wispy beard which dangled beneath two rows of crooked teeth which Zach constantly gave him hygiene tips on. Elliot held a small, brown package under one arm.

"What's it today, Addy?"

Zach frowned. Normally, he could inform Elliot exactly what was in the box, based on its shape, size, style, and postage, but this box was different. It was rectangular with about 10 by 6 by 4 dimensions. All it read was _To Doctor Zacharias Addy_. Curious. The use of his full name suggested a private company, but usually it would use his last name first. Also, it had to be someone who knew he preferred to be referred to as "doctor." It wasn't someone from the Jeffersonian. It wasn't his relatives or family either. The handwriting looked like Sweets, but the lowercase "a" was wrong and Sweets always delivered his packages by hand. Zach didn't know what Booth wrote like, but the style of box didn't seem appropriate, and what could the FBI Agent want from him? Booth hadn't visited him once. Zach cocked his head.

"I am - not certain of this particular container's contents." He said slowly.

"C'mon man! Nothing?"

Zach shook his head, feeling off his game, and slightly embarrassed that he didn't know the answer. Elliot, seeming disappointed, left the package in Zach's hands.

Alone again, Zach set the box on his bed and carefully removed the tag with his gloved hands. He winced, finger's burning as he tried to pry the box's lid off. He willed the top off and jumped a little at what he saw. Sitting in the box, severed at the wrist were two flesh covered human hands. They belonged to a Caucasian male, about his same age. Beneath the hand's fractured metacarpals was a yellow paper with inky black words written across it. Zach's eyes grew large and alert as he silently read the note. He pushed the box away and backed away from the startling note. The page fluttered to the floor, its words racing through the young anthropologists mind.

_Thought you might need a new pair._

_-The Excavator_

_..._

"You know Bones, you remind me of C3PO." Special Agent Seeley Booth said as he and Temperance Brennan pulled into their driveway.

"I don't know what that means." She replied, slamming her car door.

"Seriously! C'mon Bones, _Star Wars_!" Booth cried in disbelief. "You know, Luke Skywalker, the Death Star, lightsabers?"

He spun around as if wielding an imaginary sword. Brennan shot him a skeptical look as she pulled Kristine out from the backseat. Booth rolled his eyes and unlocked the front door. The house was warm and welcoming. Brennan kissed him on the cheek as he hung up his coat and carried Kristine to the kitchen. It was Friday evening, Booth's favorite time, when he could stay up late with his child and beautiful wife knowing that he'd have two full days of rest.

The sore agent yawned and wandered to the bedroom to enjoy a long hot shower. Booth kicked off his socks and sat on the bed, which he immediately regretted. He felt a wetness on the sheet which seeped into his coat. Startled, he turned to examine the stain, which was spread over the bed. It was dark, thick, and red. Blood.

_The Excavator was here. _

The dripping words seemed to taunt him. Booth suddenly realized that someone had gotten into the house while they were away. _Bones_. He turned to run to the kitchen, but slipped on a yellow sheet of paper and landed with a painful thud on the carpet. He reached under the bed to snatch the sheet and came out instead with a foot. No, really. A bloody foot. Booth cried out in alarm and kicked it away, backing up to the door. The yellow note peeked from under the sheet. Reluctantly, he grabbed it. It had a bloody streak on it, but it couldn't cover the haunting words printed in black.

_To Special Agent Seeley Booth_

_Don't run from danger._

_-The Excavator_

"Bones!" he shouted.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, a very energetic baby girl was bouncing in the arms of a very tired anthropologist. Brennan had just strapped Kristine into her high chair when she noticed a small package resting on the counter.

Even in her brilliance, the exhausted doctor didn't bother to wonder how the box had got there, so she broke open the lid and peered inside without caution. The box contained a jar wrapped in tissue paper. On top rested a yellow paper that read "_To Doctor Temperance Brennan_" in inky black print. Brennan pulled the tissue away, then everything happened fast.

Brennan stumbled back, which was more subtle than what most would do after receiving a jar of human eyeballs and severed ears. She heard Booth yell her name from the other room. Kristine wailed and threw her toy giraffe which Brennan tripped over and she and the box clattered to the floor. The glass jar shattered and human remains rolled everywhere. A yellow paper drifted to the floor.

_You're my eyes and ears._

_-The Excavator_

"Booth!" she stammered.

"Bones!" his voice was oddly filled with fear. Suddenly, she panicked.

"Booth!" she yelled, her voice shaking.

"Bones!"

"Booth!"

"Bones!" Booth ran into the room with wild eyes and took in the seen.

"Booth!" she cried and embraced him in a hug. His arms were warm and reassuring, but she couldn't escape what she had just seen.

"Temperance."

He held her in silence before pushing away, his face red.

"I'm gonna' find the bastard who did this."

...

Lance Sweets threw his wrinkled tie on the bed.

"Arg!" he yelled at it, after what felt like the millionth (but was really only the fourth) attempt to make it straight. Daisy had bought him the tie for the anniversary of when the met the previous week, and he wanted to surprise her by wearing it for their date that night.

The pale blue tie was covered with white bunnies, with pink noses and green bows. He smiled at their cute little faces, until he remembered how he had wanted to rip it to shreds just a moment ago. The phycologist rubbed his temples and stared into the mirror.

His curly black hair was a mess and he had dark circles under his eyes. The tuxedo he had chosen was stylish, but extremely itchy, plus one of the buttons had come off, revealing white from the shirt he wore beneath it. Clearly, he was on top of the fashion world.

_Ding, dong!_

The sound of the doorbell rang through the apartment. Sweets groaned. _Please don't be Daisy_. Sweets quickly straightened his jacket and combed his hair with his fingers. He slowly approached the door and, just to be safe, put on a flashy smile and pulled open the door. But nobody was there. Sweets frowned and looked down. Sitting on the porch was a box. Taped to it was a yellow paper; _To Doctor Lance Sweets_. Cautiously, he scooped it up and closed the door gently behind him. Sweets tore open the package and gasped.

"Whoa!"

Sweets pushed the box away.

"Whoa! What the-"

He checked the box again to see if he had imagined it. He hadn't. The box still contained what it had before. A severed human nose. Beneath it was a bouquet of brown, withered flowers. Suddenly, Sweets understood. They were daisies. He shuddered, noticing a folded yellow page in the box. With his trembling hands, he slid the note from beneath the bloody blossoms and unfolded the paper.

_The nose knows. Oh, and enjoys your date, doctor._

_-The Excavator_

Sweets shoved the paper back into the box and slammed the lid. He began to pace. Then he went to the door and locked it. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Booth's number. He was sent straight to voicemail. He began to pace again, then pulled out his phone again.

He punched in Daisy's number on the cracked screen.

_Recalculating. Recalculating._

Dang, his phone sucked. Finally, Sweets sighed with relief when he heard a familiar, cheery voice on the other line.

"Hey Lancelot! Ready for our big night!" Daisy Wick pulled the curling iron through her smooth brown hair, sending a soft buzzing through the phone.

"Hi Daisy. So, well, okay, um –" he paused. "How 'bout I come pick you up?"

Daisy frowned. "Why Lancey? What's the matter?"

Sweets sighed, contemplating what to say. He decided that "_Oh I got threatened and somebody sent me dead stuff so I wanted to make sure that you didn't die_" wouldn't suffice.

"Look, er-We'll talk when I pick you up."

"Okie dokey, whatever you say, Lancelot."

_Beep_.

He'd hung up! Daisy had learned to know when Lance was upset, but today he just seemed – whacked. Weird.

Daisy tied the bow of her pink dress and looked in the mirror.

"You're simply gorgeous." She grinned at her reflection. So what if Lance was distracted. Nothing was going to get in the way of this fabulous night.

...

The Excavator grinned maniacally as he watched the Jeffersonian team from his computer. Everything was going according to plan.

**So, have I caught your attention?**


	2. The Enigma in the Excavation: Chapter 2

**To be honest, I was genuinely shocked at the number of follows, favorites, and positive reviews that I received for this story. I am so thrilled that you are reading this and I hope that this success will continue. I have school, oboe lessons, and theatre rehearsals during the weeks, so I should mostly update on the weekends, but I'm going to apologize in advance for any late updates that may keep you waiting in the future. Couple of things: I don't own Bones (in that case I'd be sitting at the Royal Diner with Eric Milligan right now). Also, I've been informed that Kristine is **_**Christine**_**. My apologies. Keep up the reviews, favorites, and follows folks! Here's the next chapter;**

It was approximately 4:50 when one anthropologist, one bug-man, one artist, two FBI agents, and six interns stumbled through the Jeffersonian doors. That was 4:50 AM, mind you, as Booth was a tad persistent. He and Dr. Brennan had called the rest of the team immediately, and planned to meet at the Jeffersonian around five. Brennan was pretty shaken up, and Booth was stunned to hear that Hodgins, Angela, and Sweets had all received "gifts" from whoever _The Excavator _was. Booth was a bit frightened as well, but he obviously didn't show it. He had to stay strong for Bones, no matter what.

Oddly, Cam hadn't replied to his call. Brennan decided to call her interns instead, but because it was rather last minute, not everyone was exactly. . . .prepared.

Clark was ready to go, but covered with dust, as he had worked late cleaning a new discovery from the archaeology department. Arastoo had volunteered for his church and hadn't bothered to take off his green and silver robes. Finn, just back from the gym, was covered with sweat and had earphones dangling from his pocket, and Daisy was standing close to Sweets, looking heartbroken in a very short dress and tons of neon pink lipstick. Fisher, as usual, was looking depressed. He had come from Comic-Con under short notice and looked uncomfortable in his Batman tights. Last of all, poor Wendell still had on his bedtime boxers.

They all appeared weary, specifically Wendell, but they paid close attention nonetheless. Booth was grateful for them coming, but the scene was still unsettling. A stiff moodiness hovered over the lab like early morning fog. Everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts, while Bones obliviously filled the silence.

"I need everyone to put their heads together to identify each remain and look for clues on how they might have been dismembered. I have particulates for Hodgins and I want you to look closely at the messages, Ang."

"Okay, sweetie." Angela replied with a forced smile, then she and Jack exchanged a glance and ventured off together.

As Brennan started forming groups among the interns, Booth excused himself to make a phone call. Just as he entered Cam's number, he noticed a light coming from Dr. Saroyan's office. Curious. Had she been working all night?

"Camille?" he called softly into the dim room.

Booth pushed open the door and took in the alarming scene. The floor was stained with blood, and the dark red liquid dripped from the table. A cracked microscope lay sideways on the floor with a haunting yellow paper lying beneath it.

"Camille!" Booth shouted, now frantic.

His eyes raced around the room as he searched, slipping on the wet floor.

"Booth?" Bones voice could be heard from the door. She gasped.

"Bones!"

Booth turned to see his wife in the doorway, blood on her hands which clutched the yellow page. Her eyes were wide. He stared at her for several long moments.

"Do you think-"

The unfinished question hung in the air as she searched his eyes for a sign of response.

"What does it say?" he asked softly.

Brennan read the note out loud:

_Let's play hide and seek._

_Where's Ellen Patriot? No body, no murder._

_Watch your step – the stairs can get a little slippery._

_Ready or not, here I come._

_-The Excavator_

"Well, what's that supposed to mean?" Booth demanded.

Brennan nearly choked. "She's gone."

"Who?"

Bones pointed to the autopsy table. "Ellen Patriot. The Excavator stole our body."

…

Booth took a deep breath. "Well, what about the stairs? He could have set a trap."

She bit her lip. "There are twelve staircases in the Jeffersonian. Then another three steps to the examination platform. "

She pointed out into the main hall, where a horrifying scene caught her attention.

"Dr. Hodgins!"

Brennan ran out the door where up ahead, Hodgins was sliding his card through the ID slot and making his way up the stairs.

"Thurston!"

A shout came from behind them where Brennan was surprised to see Finn, who had been trailing along behind her. He ran and tackled Hodgins at the same time as an alarm rang out and a long black object catapulted from the left wall straight towards the platform.

A hush fell over the crowd of chattering interns as all eyes turned to Finn and Hodgins.

"Jack?" Angela whispered, heard clearly in the silence.

"Finn?" Hodgins shaking voice replied. "Oh my god."

Angela ran over. "Jack, what is it?"

"No, no, no!" he cried. "Angie, call the ambulance."

Booth rushed over while the artist pulled out her phone with wide eyes. Finn was lying, unmoving on the ground, a large red patch seeping through his lab coat. Hodgins pressed on the wound, with Booth helping from behind him.

"C'mon Opie, c'mon!" the entomologist shouted.

The blaring of sirens were heard in the distance getting louder and louder. Finn took in a wheezy breath, staring straight into Booth's eyes. He took a step back as medics came into the room. Booth pulled Hodgins away forcefully. Brennan took her place beside him, squeezing Booth's hand.

She looked at him with teary eyes. "I suppose we ought to investigate?"

Booth grimaced.

…

After being knocked out with a microscope, waking up to a sudden crash and a muffled scream isn't all that pleasant. Unfortunately, it wasn't exactly Cam's lucky day. Her eyes fluttered open, greeting her with the dazzling scenery of a concrete wall. Splendid.

Cam's head was pounding and her whole body was sore. She began to sit up. Pain seared through her head, but she jolted up anyhow. She couldn't help but yelp at the sudden headache. Her forehead was sticky from a long gash above her right eye. Her legs were scratched and bruised, as if she'd been dragged. She felt drowsy and dizzy, and had the oddest sensation that she'd been living in a shoe box her whole life and she had finally come out.

Overall, it was comparable to being thrown into a meat processor. Or cramming your head into a functional blender. Cam took in the room.

She was lying on a small mattress crammed into the corner of two concrete walls. The room wasn't particularly big, but it was larger than her office. The left wall had two large cabinets and a desk with a dim lamp. There was a large piece of construction paper with a pencil lying beside it. Cam examined the sketch. It was a portrait; of her. She let out a horrified gasp, which echoed around her in the emptiness. Creepy as it was, the picture was spectacular. The lines were exact, down to every last feature. Each strokes were delicate and light, the precision unbelievable. The bottom left corner held a signature in red pen. _The Excavator._

The back wall was concrete, just like the others, but it was painted with large black digits. Cam didn't know what to make of the numbers. They appeared random;

58261743

32584617

81437265

25316478

76845132

The right wall had two sets of wooden double doors. The wall was covered with a white wallpaper, covered with black spades. There was a window, showing a dim scene of New York City at night. Cam began to panic, as she wondered where this dull place could be, or worse, how she got there. She sighed with disappointment, yet slight relief, as the window's image shifted to a tropical beach. Next to the small cot which Cam sat was a small oak table with a lamp providing little light compared to the black chandelier dangling from the ceiling. There was a clock, but rather than a time, it seemed to be a stopwatch. It read 53:28; a little over two days. She tried not to wonder what it may be counting down from.

Another shout and cry of pain echoed through the air, but Cam couldn't decide where it was coming from. Her thoughts were shaken as a frighteningly familiar low voice was heard. "Ah, Dr. Saroyan, you are awake. I hope that you are comfortable. Please, make yourself at home. Before I begin a proper introduction, I would like to shatter your hopes of escape. I will tell you now, the odds suggest that you will die at the end of that timer, but do not fear, I know how clever you are. I know from when I was forced to escape your clutches in your coroner years so long ago. And now you have found her once more. Ellen Patriot. So innocent. I can still hear her desperate pleading. Pitiful, really. It was a joy for me to slit her throat."

"Who are you?" Cam demanded as she attempted to locate the source of sound.

"I was getting to that. The Excavator, at your service. The master of trickery, the source of suffering, the judge of the games. And you, my little game piece, will be hearing from me. So throw the dice, Camille Saroyan. What's your next move?"

There was an eerie silence followed by a beep, leading the confused and scared pathologist to a speaker hidden on the windowsill, where a lake full of ducks was now shown. Cam clenched her jaw and frowned. No, she decided. This was comparable to a blender and a meat processor.

…

Zach knew the minute that Sweets entered the room that something was wrong. It wasn't the fact that he paced back and forth instead of sitting down. It wasn't the frantic tapping of his fingers either, or even the suspicious stammering that occurred when he spoke. It was the far off, wild look in his eyes that bothered the anthropologist. Being a phycologist, Sweets was often very calm and an expert at hiding his emotions. Besides Dr. Brennan, he was the most difficult person for Zach to read. Zach wasn't stupid. He was a genius. And he knew for a fact that something was clearly wrong.

"Good afternoon Zach. I – um – well, I've got a busy schedule as you know, and we're in the middle of this case, so I'd like to make this quick. I hope you understand that we have very important jobs, so, er – maybe we can make this up later. I have a date with Daisy on Tuesday and Wednesday is my free therapy session, but I think I'm free Thursday, because, you see-"

"Dr. Sweets." Zach interrupted coolly. "You're rambling."

Sweets froze. "Right. Er- how are you?"

_How am I? _Zach thought._ What a ridiculous thing for a phycologist to ask!_

"Well," he began. "I received a pair of hands."

"Okay, that's nice and – wait. What?"

"Human hands." He repeated. "In the mail. This came with it." Zach slid the yellow paper across the table with one gloved hand. Sweets stared, stunned. This wasn't the reaction Zach was looking for.

"Dr. Sweets, do you have a connection to this?"

Sweets spoke not a single word. Instead, he whipped out his phone and punched several numbers in. Zach rose, his chair screeching across the floor as his phycologist held the phone to his ear.

"Booth!"

"What?" Booth's voice rang out from the other line. His tone: annoyed.

"The Excavator didn't stop with us."

Booth sat up on Dr. Brennan's couch and called her over from her desk. "Take a step back, Sweets, what's going on?"

"I'm with Zach. Seems like the Excavator has been tracking our team. He received a note and –"

"More remains." Brennan finished.

"Hands. Booth, they're hands."

"This is one of those times when I have no idea what's happening." Zach interrupted bluntly.

Brennan paused on the others line. "Zach?" she whispered. Her voice sounded so small and weak, but she couldn't prevent it. She sat down slowly on the couch.

Zach was afraid to speak as if to hurt her more than he'd already done, so he clamped his mouth shut while Sweets awkwardly waited for a response.

"So, uh guys? About the hands?" Booth interrupted.

Zach grinned, pleased that someone had asked. "Caucasian male, approximately 25 years of age. Flesh decomposition suggests that the hands were removed three weeks ago. The victim had osteoporosis, so the hands would be easily severed with a blade-like instruments. Also, there are post mortem incisions to each right most metacarpal." He recited.

"Excellent as always, Dr. Addy." Bones smiled.

"One more thing." Zach spoke. "Particulates on the phalanges suggest that the victim was alive when the hands were removed."

Booth fell back onto the couch.

Sweets bit his lip. "What should we do?"

Brennan took a deep breath and exchanged a look with Booth. "I want you to bring the remains to the Jeffersonian." She told him. "Along with my former grad student."

…

Colin Fisher hated life. Right now, he was standing (nobody was allowed to sit) in the itchiest tights ever, examining a mandible while his co-worker was in the hospital and his boss had been kidnapped. How depressing. The mandible had post mortem scratch marks, and the odd blunt force trauma at the jaw line suggested that it had been removed after full decomposition. But, why? Oh yeah, it was also 6:15 AM. The bones belonged to an Asian male between nine and twelve years of age. It was a kid, now that was sad.

Everyone in the Jeffersonian was lost in their own thoughts when Hodgins slammed the front door, his head facing the ground.

"I found particulates on the teeth!" Fisher broke the silence. He ran after Hodgins, who completely ignored him and stomped into his office. Angela ran into him and maneuvered around to reach Hodgins.

"We're done cleaning the bones, so if you need it for a facial reconstruction, then-"

Angela glared at him and flicked her hair over her shoulder as she followed Hodgins into another room. This left Fisher standing stupidly in the open space. Wow.

He couldn't believe he was missing Comic-Con for this.

…

**I tried to end that serious chapter on a lighter note. Hope you enjoyed! I haven't gotten many reviews, follows, and favorites recently, so if you're reading this please, please, PLEASE do so that I know that somebody is reading. Sorry for the late update – I have a crazy life! I'm giving a quick shout out to Amy. Thank you so much for your review. It showed me things I did well on and other things I can work on. It's great to know that I have support from you guys. Check out work by JeffersonianGirl2004 and OkieDokieLoki (my sister). Also, read my bio to learn more. I plan on starting an Avengers story sometime soon. Thank you for reading and in case I don't post before then, Happy Thanksgiving!**


	3. The Enigma in the Excavation: Chapter 3

**So sorry for the late update, I have a busy life! Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving! I'm thankful for wonderful, dedicated readers and supportive reviews (hint, hint). Before the next chapter begins, I will ramble about random stuff in the world. Actually, you should read the following, it's kind of important.**

**First of all, I'm not a Muslim, so I don't know everything about Arastoo's religion and culture and stuff, and so just be cool, okay? I will talk more about his reactions to what happened with Cam in this chapter. Second, my disclaimer. I don't own Bones. I do own a Jeffersonian coffee mug, but it's just not the same. I also don't own the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Third, I'm just going to make a note that Brennan is a very complex character. She is hard to write (seriously, you try), so please give me feedback on her portion of this chapter. Fourth, I have started a crossover story between Bones and Sherlock, so if you're a fan of both, check it out. It's called New Beginnings, by yours truly. Next, I was asked in a review about what hit Finn in the last chapter. Patience, young padawans. Answers, come they shall. Lastly, please, please, PLEASE review! It's like cocoa with marshmallows and whipped cream to me. Not even funny, please do it. It's very important to me as an author.**

**Happy reading!**

**-HisNameIsPeter**

Cam felt completely and utterly useless.

She couldn't fashion a communicator like Zach could. She couldn't charm her way out of trouble like Angela, either. She couldn't use the minutest of particulates to find an exact place like Hodgins, or seek truths in people's lies like Sweets. She couldn't fight to the last breath like Booth, or outsmart the highest wit like Brennan. Really, the Jeffersonian team could do a mighty fine job without her.

Cam shook the thought away and blinked back tears from her eyes. One thing she could do was make use of her surroundings. Once again, she scanned the room, and, once again, her eyes landed on the back wall full of digits.

58261743

32584617

81437265

25316478

76845132

Each row scrambled the digits from one to eight, adding up to a total of 36. So, the total sum was 180. So far, nothing was ringing a bell. The columns were practically random. Two columns added up to 25 and three add up to 22, but the other three added to 20, 21, and 23.

_Maybe it doesn't have to do with the numbers, _she wondered. Cam tried replacing the numbers with the letter in their position of the alphabet.

EHBFAGDC

CBEHDFAG

HADCGBFE

BECAFDGH

GFHDEACB

She snatched a pen and sticky note from the desk and tried scribbling out different codes. Nothing. She sat down on the bed feeling defeated, when a loud voice coming from the speaker startled her to her feet.

"Ah, Dr. Saroyan, enjoying my riddles? You are a clever one indeed. Can you solve this one? You never see me coming, but always know I will come. I bring horror and darkness over, but it's always too bright. I cause pain and make you cry, but not a tear will leave your eye. It's quite simple really Camille. Death! Ah-ha! You'll see soon enough. Good luck with my puzzle. The solution will make you want to 'sing' perhaps. Rest in peace!"

Now Cam felt completely and utterly confused. Why would the answer make her sing? The worst, possibly, of all was his final words. Rest in peace. What was that supposed to mean? Cam examined the letters once more. A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H. Singing. Hmm. Music. Then, suddenly, she understood.

"It's a tune."

A, B, C, D, E, F, and G were all notes on the staff. But what about H? _Rest in peace. _H must represent a rest.

"I knew you could figure it out. I believe it's time we properly met."

Cam swallowed as the speaker shut off with a beep.

Then one double door swung open.

…

Temperance Brennan was the best in her field.

That's what she kept assuring herself as she lifted a clean cranium from the bones table. The skull had a fracture which she placed under a microscope to examine. She was truly weary, but she wouldn't be able to sleep, even if she wanted to. Cam needed her. Finn did too. Now that she thought about it, most everyone needed her this moment and she wasn't about to let them down.

The cut was deep into the bone. It appeared to have come from a blade at about a 45° angle. The hacking motion looked to have come from a human, but the precision and depth of the cut seemed almost – machinelike. Brennan rubbed her eyes and sighed. She peered back into the microscope. The cut was definitely a cause of death, having split the occipital artery clean in half.

There was a silver marking glistening in the dim microscope light. She grabbed a pair of tweezers and increased the level of magnification. It was definitely a particulate, metal by the looks of it. She carefully removed the sliver and placed it in a petri dish, which she carried down the hall to Hodgins office.

"Dr. Hodgins, I found a particulate in the skull that Angela received."

She placed the dish on the desk where Hodgins was waiting for several mas spec results.

"Thanks." He muttered.

"Are you alright, Hodgins?"

He looked up and she knew the answer immediately. His soft blonde curls stuck out in every possible direction and his sunken eyes were red and dry. Dark circles have formed beneath his icy stare and his posture was tilted and weary.

"Dr. Hodgins, you can go home for the night."

He dismissively rejected her offer. "You can't make me do that."

"I understand."

He looked up. "Really?"

"Yes. Now if you aren't occupied already, I'd really like for you to identify the particulate."

He grudgingly nodded and sent her a reassuring smile.

"Thank you, Dr. Brennan."

She nodded, and then pivoted out of the room to her office, where she could hear voices.

"I think that it's great that you're here, but I have the feeling that she may not return the favor. That's all I'm saying."

She recognized the voice as Booth.

"Who cares what Tempe thinks? I heard that there could be danger, so I came to protect her!"

Brennan clenched her fists at the sound of the voice and stomped into the room.

"Dad, what are you doing here?"

Max turned his head to the door and broke into a grin.

"Tempe! I heard that you were in a tough case, and I thought that maybe I could help!"

Brennan narrowed her eyes and turned to Booth.

"He can't help us! That's not allowed! Right Booth?"

Booth bit his lip and exchanged a glance with Max. "Actually, he can be here, Bones."

Her jaw dropped. "But that's not fair!"

"What's wrong with an extra helping hand? Don't you think that any help finding Dr. Saroyan in good?"

She clamped her jaw shut. "You better not mess up anything."

He managed a small smile. "Nice to see you too, sweetie."

She slammed her door and ran into the bones room, her mind swirling with anger. Why was everyone worrying about her? All focus should be on the case! Besides, she was her own independent woman who could take care of herself. Temperance Brennan was the best in her field.

Which brought her thoughts back to the bones on the table.

"I'm coming for you, Excavator," she whispered. "I'm going to catch you if it's the last thing I do."

…

Zach Addy tried to ignore the haunted feeling growing inside of him as Sweets' black sedan cruised into the Jeffersonian parking lot. The fountains, the rose bushes, the Greek ionic columns; everything was so familiar, as if he'd been there just yesterday. Zach took in a deep breath and tried to shake off the memories flooding into his brain. He slammed his car door, slightly harder than necessary, and followed Sweets up the stairs.

"Are you alright?" Sweets asked him.

Zach couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Most people would suffer trauma after receiving human remains in the manor which I did but, anthropologically, it would be unreasonable seeing as I previously investigated skeletal importance of homicide victims."

"I'm not asking as a phycologist, but as a friend."

Zach cocked his head like a curious puppy. _Sweets considered him a friend?_

"I am emotionally stable."

Sweets sighed and nodded. "Good."

When the phycologist pushed open the Jeffersonian doors, Zach felt all eyes being glued to his person. Several doctors began to whisper amongst each other, and one pointed straight at him, as if following his every move. Zach looked forward and tried to ignore the actions in his peripheral vision.

Lined up in front of the anthropology platform were four men and a woman. They all wore blue lab coats and white intern pins. The first in line was a man with wavy blonde hair who appeared very weary. Next was a colored man who appeared to have come from Iran, telling by his dark hair and wide brown eyes. Next to him was a tall man with jet black hair and a sorrowful expression. After him in line was the girl, who seemed to be bouncing, sending glossy brown curls everywhere. She grinned at him with alarmingly bright pink lipstick. The final man was short, wearing an archaeology badge. Curious. _Edison_, he thought it read.

Then there were the others. Hodgins crazy curls crowded around his head like a lion's mane. He was grinning at Zach. Angela, beautiful as ever, held his hand. Her curly dark hair framed her face which displayed a small, sad smile. Her eyes were welcoming and warm. The two wore rings which shimmered in their clutched hands. They were married, he knew that. But, Angela's body showed signs of pregnancy. They had a kid together. Nobody had told him.

Booth was pacing back in forth, one hand on his gun and the other in his pocket, most likely fingering the bouncy ball that he kept there. He wore his formal FBI suit with his cocky belt buckle and striped socks. Next to him was Dr. Brennan, who hadn't changed in the slightest. Her smooth auburn hair was pulled into a ponytail. She had dark circles underneath her clear sapphire eyes. It hadn't occurred to him how much he missed her, until now.

Zach was unsure on what to say, but he hated the uncomfortable silence. He decided to simply get to the point so he could avoid the whole meet and greet business. "The hands came with a-"

Dr. Brennan startled everyone by wrapping her arms around him and burying her head into his shoulder. Everyone was silent. Zach awkwardly patted his mentor's back until he couldn't take it anymore.

"Dr. Brennan, you are making me feel uncomfortable."

She pulled away, and he could have sworn that her cheeks turned a tad pink.

"My apologies. That was inappropriate behavior." She frowned, almost as if she didn't understand her own actions. "I was just very happy to see you."

"We all are."

Zach turned his head to meet Angela's wide, shimmering eyes. She planted a soft kiss on his cheek and embraced him in a warm hug.

Hodgins came up behind them and cracked a wide grin. "Hey, it's the Z-Man!"

Zach couldn't help but smile back. Hodgins was his best friend.

"Agent Booth." He nodded.

"Dr. Addy." Booth glanced back.

Zach recalled at time long ago, before Iraq, when Booth had informed him that this gesture was a sophisticated form of male bonding. He supposed that it was all he could get from the FBI Agent.

"As I was saying, the hands came with a note." He paused, feeling that something was off. "Where's Dr. Saroyan?"

That was when the mood changed.

…

Arastoo Vaziri's footsteps echoed around the silent church. He had a horrible headache and he was hot and weary, but he made the visit quick, nonetheless. He refused to sleep. Arastoo pinched himself to stay awake and rubbed his eyes, moistening his hands with cold tears.

The room was empty, except for an elderly Indonesian man asleep on one of the benches. He walked to the front where he lit a purple candle, Cam's favorite color. He kneeled and, with a deep breath, recited the Declaration of Faith.

"There is no god but God, Muhammad is the messenger of god."

And he prayed. Rays of blue, green, and orange light filtered through the stained glass windows. Tears slipped from Arastoo's closed eyes and rained with soft taps to the floor, as he did nothing to stop them.

Arastoo loved Camille Saroyan.

She was smart, and beautiful. She was funny, understanding, kind, and brought joy to those around her. She was clever and caring. And she was strong.

"I believe in you Cam."

He wouldn't let her down. He couldn't.

"C'mon Cam, be strong for me."

He hoped that somewhere she was thinking of him. No. He hoped that somewhere, she was crafting a genius plan. She probably was.

_Hope_, he thought. A deep concept. Hope, he believed, could lead any issue to solution, any hate to friendship, any dream to reality, any argument to agreement, any enemies to allies, any goals to success.

"Don't give up hope – I will be there soon."

And with that he rose and made his way to the door.

"She won't give up on you."

Arastoo turned around to where The Indonesian man lay, now awake. He wasn't sure how the man knew about his situation, or if he did at all, but he nodded at the man who stared at him with a sad smile. The man's eyes followed him out the door.

He headed to the car. He was going back to the lab where he would find ground-breaking evidence leading straight to his fiancé.

The Excavator could stop life. Arastoo had seen the terrible things he had done to the many bodies at the Jeffersonian. He could end homes and families, and put a stop to health and happiness. He could prevent joy and ruin to traditions. He could literally tear peoples hope to pieces until everything they had lived for were scraps.

Yes, the Excavator could do all of those things. But, he couldn't stop love.

…

Joseph Heltman was tied in a knot. Well, not exactly.

His arms were bound to a chair and his feet where pinned behind the chair's legs. The room where he was held was dark and quiet. He could make out two double doors on the left wall. The right wall had a long desk with papers and books stretched across it.

He thought that the wall across from him was covered with black digits. That was weird. It was dark; he was most likely wrong.

Joseph had been a coroner in New York before an economic downfall. He was then forced to pick up oddball jobs all around Manhattan to earn money. He now lived with his wife and four-year old son in a small house where he worked from home as a development coordinator. He had been planning to go back to school so he could be an engineer.

He wasn't really sure about what had happened to him the previous night. He remembered going to pick up some early birthday presents for his child. He had just loaded a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Play Pen into his black truck when he heard someone calling his name. It sounding a little like his wife. He recalled going around to the alley, but nothing came back to him about what happened next.

He was cold, lonely, and scared.

"Hello?"

His voice cracked. It sounded so small, echoing off the surrounding walls.

Joseph winced as he tried to untangle the rope around his hands. His left arm throbbed and his right ankle was wet and itchy.

Suddenly, a large thunk and scream filled the silent air.

"You are a clever one, Joseph Heltman." A low, raspy voice laughed. "Well, I am eager for you to begin the games, so I'll be brief. Look down, please, sir."

Joseph bit his lip and looked down at his feet. A light shone out of nowhere.

Laying before him was an arm. Severed arm. Below it was an all-too-familiar yellow sheet. Everything started to come back to him.

_The Excavator_

…

**Hope you liked the OC! We will be learning more about Joseph Heltman in the next chapter. I am very sorry if I got Arastoo wrong, he is a complicated character and I am not all that familiar with his religion. Please review and tell me what you think!**

**Also, my sister (OkieDokieLoki) has started a Bones story called The King in the Coffin. It is an alternate ending to the Gravedigger Saga and it is VERY good. I'm not even just saying that, it really is. It's actually better than mine. Anyway, she would be thrilled if you read it.**

**Hope you enjoyed Thanksgiving, and don't forget to review!**

**HisNameIsPeter**


	4. The Enigma in the Excavation: Chapter 4

**Thank you all for your continuous support! I am truly grateful to all that followed, favorited, read, and reviewed my story. Thank you also to those who took part and read my stories for the 12 Days of Christmas Challenge. I probably will delete them at the end of the month, so if you want to read them, do so now!**

**Sorry for the late update, as I said, I've been busy with the 12 Days of Christmas Challenge. I will try to update more regularly, once a week or so, but things might vary due to my schedule.**

**Standard Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. I do own a DVR on which I just watched episode 1 of season 10 and almost cried. RIP!**

**So yeah, keep on reading, following, and favoriting! Don't forget reviewing! I'm still trying to decide where this story is going, so if you have any ideas, please review or private message me. Thank you for your support. Because I haven't updated in a while, I will make this chapter longer.**

**Buckle up, this chapter is a wild ride!**

**-HisNameIsPeter**

Michelle's life was falling apart.

She had come home from work that day weary and overwhelmed with assignments that had to be completed that night. But she wasn't about to cry about it. Michelle Saroyan was a tough girl and she was determined to make Cam proud.

This thought reminded her of what happened next and filled her warm brown eyes with tears.

Michelle recalled calling Cam's name. She had carried her bags through the front door of their cute little flat and plopped down on the couch with exhaustion. She called Cam's name again.

"Mom?"

Defeated, the doctor's stubborn daughter decided that Cam had worked late that night and decided to go to the Jeffersonian. It was Thursday; the day that her world stopped spinning.

Because when Michelle Saroyan burst cheerfully through the Jeffersonian doors, Cam wasn't there.

Her mom had been kidnapped by a serial killer. How reassuring. But Cam wasn't the least of her worries.

Ever since Michelle broke it off with Finn, her other lover had become less tasteful. He was still sweet and cute and understanding, but he wasn't right. He didn't fit with her. Finn did.

He wasn't Finn.

Michelle regretted ever believing that her former boyfriend had become money-hungry. She wished she could say anything to him right now. She supposed she could. But he wouldn't answer.

Finn Abernathy lay sleeping in the white hospital bed as Michelle sat beside him, her head resting on the mattress. She dried her eyes on the blanket, choking back the muffled sob rising in her throat.

It wasn't fair.

Cam never did anything wrong. She was trying to solve a murder and bring justice to a barbaric killer. She was making the world a better place. She deserved more than she normally had, and nobody had the right to take that away from her.

Finn never did anything wrong. He was a distressed friend trying to protect someone he cared about. He was showing kindness and expressing friendship. He was loved by many and he shouldn't have gotten hurt for caring.

Michelle loved them both. What had she done? She was a frustrated teen trying to balance relationships, family problems, sports, studies, money, work, and a social life. The two people in the world that could best understand her, give her advice, and help her through the hard parts had been taken away from her. She was alone.

Michelle Saroyan was alone.

"M-Michelle?"

A hoarse, hollow voice interrupted the silence and shook a hopeless Michelle from her self-pity. She looked up to the man she loved.

"Finn?"

The intern's eyes were open, squinting in the dim light. He took in the room, examining the needle in his left arm and wincing in pain when he tried to sit up. His shoulder throbbed and he felt as if he hadn't slept in months. Struggling to keep his eyes open, the country boy lifted his head and turned to face his ex-girlfriend.

Michelle's face lit up. "Oh my god, Finn. I've been so worried! I was scared when I heard what happened so I got here as fast as I could, but then I wondered if I should get you something and I remembered from we were dating that you liked ribs, so I picked some up because they're your favorite, but I worried if it wasn't good enough, so I was going to leave, but the doctor said that you might wake up soon and I wanted to be here, so. . . "

Her voice trailed off when she realized Finn playfully smirking at her.

"Hey!"

She laughed and punched him lightly in the shoulder. The anthropologist squeezed his eyes shut and breathed heavily, then Michelle realized what she'd done.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Was that the one that-"

"Yeah." He muttered.

"I'm so sorry, I-"

He laughed and she stopped talking and sat down, giggling softly.

"Thank you for being here."

Finn's words hung in the air as the two fell silent.

"Look, Finn, last week when I-"

"I know."

She looked at him peculiarly. "No, but I meant that-"

"I know."

"Let me finish, I just think we-"

"I know."

"I hate you!" She began to laugh.

Finn leaned in close and looked her in the eyes.

"I love you too."

Michelle smiled sadly and leaned in close, her lips touching his. Finn's were cracked and dry, but she didn't mind. He gently pulled away.

"I broke it off with the other guy, by the way. He was a jerk."

Finn laughed at that and scooted closer to the beautiful girl next to him.

"Michelle," he hesitated.

"What?"

"About Cam. . ."

She turned away, trying to hide her tears.

"Michelle, it's okay. I'm here."

She turned back to him and burrowed her head into his shoulder, her whole body shaking as she cried into his neck. His skin was warm to touch, and he stroked her hair as she tried to speak.

"It's just that- When I found out that –"

"Shhh."

Michelle stopped talking and sat quietly, enjoying her lover's company.

Perhaps she wasn't so alone after all.

…

Zach thought that the lab would feel peculiar.

He had imagined trying, and failing, to fit back in and find his place amongst those working there. He worried about feeling awkward and struggling to feel at home.

But the doctor's feelings were quite the opposite.

Zach had blended back into the culture of the Jeffersonian and found himself wishing that he would never have to go home. Home. Was that what the asylum had become for him? That wasn't where he belonged. Or was it?

No, he decided firmly. He wasn't crazy. He was logical and completely in his right mind. He didn't belong there. But, he didn't belong at the lab either. He had been – replaced.

Zacharias Addy wondered with a frown, if he didn't belong anywhere.

He wandered into the bones room as he had done often, so many years ago, and shifted a microscope over the severed hands that he had received from "The Excavator". The wrists had been severed, so only the trapezoid, trapezium, and capitate carpals remained for Zach to examine. The anthropologist increased the magnification, revealing a deep cut mark across the carpals. The blade like instrument used to sever the hands had a prominent triangular shape.

Next, Zach examined the post mortem scratch marks on the right most metacarpals of each hand. Curious. The scratch wasn't too deep, but it must have been made by a sharp object, seeing as it left marks in the bone. This man had suffered. The Excavator wasn't only murdering, kidnapping, and stealing from innocent people; he was torturing them.

"Anything new, Dr. Addy?"

Dr. Brennan snapped on a pair of blue latex gloves and buttoned up her lab coat.

"I have identified the shape of the object used to sever the hands, which I sent to Angela so she can make a 3D model."

Zach's mentor nodded in approval.

"I was examining the metacarpals, and I am unsure of a weapon that could cut through skin with force, but only sink this far into the bone."

Dr. Brennan frowned and walked to the microscope, which Zach automatically stepped away from. She peered into the lens, then projected the image onto Zach's computer screen.

"An irregular shape, I presume. Maybe, sharp at a point, but flat on the edges?"

Zach nodded in agreement. "I thought so as well, but the tip would have to be very fine and be inserted at a very specific angle. It seems that they were caused by a sort of sawing motion."

Brennan looked at the photos of the hands before Zach had removed the skin and cleaned the bones. "It appears that this man's hands were bound. Look at the red marks on the epidermis. A thick rope could cause this, if you factor in a struggle."

"He was beaten."

Zach picked up a pen and began to take notes on the paper. He wrote furiously about their discoveries in hope of impressing the doctor. Whilst writing, Zach nudged the pen into his hand, causing a small bubble of blood to form.

He looked up and held out his hand to Dr. Brennan. "Look."

"What?" She raised her eyebrows. "Do you need a Band-Aid?"

Zach rolled his eyes. "Fine point, flat and circular edges. These scratch marks were cause by a pen!"

"Brilliant!" Brennan exclaimed. "Maybe he was trying to free himself with whatever he could find."

"But it was caused after he died." Zach pointed out. "Someone was trying to save him."

"I'll tell Booth!"

Brennan pivoted on her heel and walked briskly from the table. She paused before leaving room.

"Zach?"

"Yes, Dr. Brennan."

She blinked her eyes and smiled at him. "I'm very happy that you are here."

"I am happy that I am here too."

She blinked again and rubbed her eye with her hand. "I find myself getting very emotional."

It was Zach's turn to smile. "We should forget the past and enjoy being together for now." He said. "I have missed being your friend, so I'd like to make it worthwhile now."

Brennan was speechless. "Thank you Dr. Addy." She made out softly. The doctor straightened her posture and regained authority in the room. "While I am away, please examine the feet and clean the cranium for Angela. I will be back momentarily."

Zach nodded and turned back to the bones table.

"And Zach,"

"Yes, Dr. Brennan?"

"No matter what, I'm always your friend."

…

The Excavator, in all his glory, was a drama queen.

He wanted his first impression on Camille Saroyan to be magnificent. He had always been a technology whiz, and prepared sensors on the floor the dimly flicker the lights when he entered. He had set out fog machines to spread a hazy mist over the room in order for his entrance to be all the more extravagant.

Despite his theatrical preparation though, he put on simple clothes. A gray suit with light vertical stripes and slick black shoes showed that he meant no harm. To display his dramatic side, he wore a sleek purple tie; it had always been Cam's favorite.

"Mason, how is my appearance."

The Excavator turned to his apprentice and personal assistant, a short, skinny man with nerdy, black glasses that covered his entire face.

"Sure to please, sir!" Mason replied in his high-pitched, nasally voice. The Excavator rolled his eyes.

"What do you know about fashion, Mason?" he demanded. "Never mind, don't answer that. Is everything in place? I don't want any, er – technical difficulties."

"Well, sir, I've transmitted the broadcast signal straight to the Jeffersonian through a satellite so that they can't track our location, and I prepared the fog release to erupt when the door reaches a certain mark and then, to be sure that the lights are properly managed, I-"

"Shut up, Mason. You can just say, yes or no. No need for all your technical garbage – it's a waste of time."

"Sorry, sir."

"Don't talk. You bore me with you attempts to impress."

"Well, sir, I only mean to-"

"Mason."

"Yes, sir?"

The Excavator narrowed his eyes and stood over the intimidated man. "Don't speak to me."

Mason nodded and ran off to make sure that the wires were properly connected beneath the door so that the sensors would cause an alert in order to – well, let's just say that he had last minute touches to make to the Excavator's grand appearance.

The Excavator sat down in his over-sized arm chair and tapped his foot on the floor. He slowly fell into rhythm, being a very musical soul.

Mason hurried into the room and turned on the security cameras. He began to talk, but the Excavator motioned for his silence. Mason simply nodded and took his place at the computer.

The Excavator grinned and cracked an evil laugh, just to get into the mood. He walked heel to heel and with a nasty grin, thrust open the double doors.

He struck a pose on hearing Cam's gasp as fog emerged. Being influenced by an audience is one thing he had learned in many years of theatre.

"Hello, Camille." He said, his voice turned rough and raspy. "Have you been enjoying your stay?"

"Who are you?" She demanded, eyes narrowed and face red.

"Aw, Dr. Saroyan. Where are your manners? You should answer questions before asking some of your own. Now, where were we?"

"My stay has been dreadful." She snapped. "Your place is filthy."

The Excavator tsked and shook his head in disappointment. "I suppose that we two will be playing a different game. You are far more stubborn than my normal victims. They usually cry themselves out before the end of the first day. None have hardly survived the months I keep them here."

Cam's face fell before she quickly regained dignity. The Excavator grinned at the clever threat he had weaved into the conversation. The lights flickered and the Excavator was once thankful that Mason was good at anything.

"Oh, never fear Camille, you are a very different case indeed. I fear that you don't remember me."

Cam's eyes widened as she stared at his smirking face.

"No. It can't be."

"Oh, I believe that it can."

Cam struggled to look him in the eyes. "I watched you die."

"I was a bit, say, overdramatic, wasn't I?"

She tightened her fists. "You won't get away with this."

"Oh Cam, you have always underestimated me. But play the game as you wish."

The Excavator leaned back and laughed, pointing at the security camera behind his back. Mason got the message and switched off the light.

As the darkness came back to light, Cam allowed her eyes to search the room, but the Excavator was gone. All that remained was a sickening yellow page.

_It's been a while Camille._

_Sorry to disappoint you, but I was never dead. It's amazing what you can to with fearful people, a convincing threat, and some fake blood. I fooled you so easily Cam. I was actually surprised that you were so blind. Disappointing, really. I overestimated your intelligence. _

_I also overestimated your team. What has this world come to? I am truly upset with the lack of progress that they have made. I suppose they just don't care enough to put in real effort. And I've killed so many people in order to send them clues. Pity._

_Never fear, you are not the first to be captured in my web. This game is a thriller. A mystery. A horror. A romance, perhaps? In my position, quite a comedy. You know that those have always been my favorite._

_Don't be dumb. Be clever. Be a spider. Be me._

_Best wishes, as always. As I once said, break a leg, Camille. All the world's a stage!_

_Greg_

…

Dr. Addy made Clark Edison feel extremely uncomfortable.

The young man had an odd way of looking at things and seemed to be predicting Clark's discoveries before he made them. Most likely to come up with a snarky comment that causes Dr. Brennan to get on to Clark for being off task.

The archaeologist got that they were trying to make Zach feel at home and that they had formed a tight bond of friendship long ago. He understood that Zach's arrival was making everyone a little on edge as they tried to pretend that things were like they used to. Clark could see.

But he couldn't just let go of the fact that the man he was working with had assisted a serial killer. I mean, c'mon, that was just creepy. How did this not bother anybody else?

Zach had a strange attitude and didn't exactly fit in a crowd. He would often stare at Clark with raised eyebrows and a skeptical gaze, but when Clark returned the look, he would simply receive a hateful glare.

Hodgins had found residue of gravel and chicken meat in one of the victims' teeth. Clark had made a reference to "why does the chicken cross the road", and Zach had said, "Gallus domesticus are frightened for alarmingly loud noises, so this chicken must live near little traffic, most likely a farmland littered rural area, but unless it was a particularly poor farming community with unstable chicken coops, I conclude that it would be irrational for a chicken to cross the road in the first place."

Angela had smirked and left the room, leaving Clark with Dr. Brennan, who crossed her arms and subtly nodded to the bones, and Zach, who shot him a questioning glance before continuing to lecture about the hairline fractures on the cranium.

The 26 year old man looked about 12 with his floppy brown hair and dark brown eyes. Clark felt awkward talking to him. He seemed to gloat without even realizing that he was being offensive.

He had overheard Zach and Dr. Brennan deep in conversation.

"Dr. Brennan, I fear that none of the interns you have called are intellectually worthy of replacing me. Mr. Fisher is distracted and frantic, Mr. Bray is foolish and naive, Mr. Vaziri is impatient and stubborn, and Ms. Wick is constantly off-topic. Also, Dr. Edison is reluctant and is constantly giving me dirty looks. These unbearable traits tend to decrease the quality of their work. I believe that you have a problem on your hands."

"I know Zach. My interns are the best that I can find. But none of them are you." She smiled at him. "Now, what can you conclude from the spider-web fracture on the distil phalange of the foot?"

"Well," Zach had begun. "Dr. Edison had originally determined that a blade caused this, but the trauma more likely suggests being caused by a blunt instrument approximately 3 inches long and," he used a ruler to closely examine the wound, "1.3 centimeters wide."

"Excellent work, Dr. Addy. I will speak with my interns. In the meantime, can you please review the other anthropologists' data reports? I don't want any misconceptions and false information throwing us off track."

That had put Clark over the edge. He inspected the stab wound to the skull. It had a circular point and an odd spiral pattern that seemed to have dug through the skin and caused the victim to bleed out. Clark tried to make a 3D model of the weapon in his head.

Then it came to him; a nail!

He ran to Brennan's office. "Dr. Brennan! I found that the fracture on the skull was caused by a-"

"Dr. Edison, have you not been listening?"

Clark narrowed his eyes skeptically. Dr. Brennan sighed.

"Zach already identified the weapon as a 2 inch oval wire brass nail found at Lexington Auto Repair, a shop an hour from here."

"Well, I-"

"Dr. Addy also determined that this nail came from behind at a 36% angle which impaled the parietal lobe, resulting in death."

"Dr. Brennan, I was unaware-"

"Thank you, Dr. Edison. Please go and bring the skull to Angela for a reconstruction."

Clark clenched his fists. He knew it was childish, but he was jealous of the other anthropologist. It wasn't his fault that Zach had decided to work for a psycho killer and make everyone feel horrible. He's back, it's great, but why does he have to be so much better than everyone else? It wasn't fair.

The angry anthropologist snatched the skull and began to head for Angela's office.

If you asked Clark, Zach Addy belonged in a mental institute.

…

"Come on Bones, we're leaving now."

"But Booth, I have to finish running this tox screen. Without Cam here, I have to take over work with flesh."

"Bones," Booth approached his wife by the bones table and wrapped his arms around her waist. Brennan tried to push away, but ended up burying her head into Booth's shoulder.

"It's okay, Bones. It's okay."

"No it's not!" she cried. Booth took a step back.

"Nothing is okay. I have to find this killer before he kills anyone else, before he kill Cam, maybe he already has, and it's all my fault."

She dropped her head into her hands and began to sob, taking in short, shaky breaths.

"Bones," Booth said quietly. "It's not your fault."

"But-"

"Listen to me. We are all trying our hardest. Cam too. Do you really think that Cam would have given up this quickly?"

Brennan shook her head softly.

"That's right. We are all doing our best work, but you have to take a break."

"Booth!" she exclaimed.

"What do you think would be better, getting work done a tiny bit slower because we take breaks and being accurate, or working constantly, getting tired, and making mistakes?"

Brennan turned away from him and said nothing.

"You haven't slept in a while. You need to allow yourself to rest so that you can have enough energy to work again in the morning. Everyone is doing it. You're the only one here, and you need your team to accomplish more."

"So, you're saying that I can't discover anything by myself."

"No!" Booth cried. "I'm saying that you can't put pressure on yourself to do everything alone."

The room was quiet for a long while, before Booth spoke up.

"Christine wants to see you."

Brennan looked up at her husband with tears in her eyes.

"Booth, I'm – I'm sorry!" she gulped. "I'm just so worried and I feel like we've gotten nothing done."

"Well, you know what that means."

Brennan studied him, confused.

"We're gonna' get a heck of a lot done tomorrow."

…

**I worked a whole lot trying to get this chapter perfect, so I hope you enjoyed. Things are starting to get interesting, aren't they?**

**Thank you to all of those who followed and favorited. I'd love more reviews, so if you have any comments or suggestions, please let me know. Here's a shout-out to some of my especially dedicated readers, JeffersonianGirl2004, Leafpelt of Thunder Clan, and ****FREFERNA2008****. You are so supportive of me and my writing and are always there to give me ideas and feedback. If you want to get a shout-out, review (hint, hint)!**

**Thank you for reading and I will update soon! Welcome to 2015!**

**-HisNameIsPeter**


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